


Suspicion and Suspense

by Bdoing, mademoisellePlume, Vinnocent



Series: Heroes and Wolves [8]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, M/M, Phobias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoing/pseuds/Bdoing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellePlume/pseuds/mademoisellePlume, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Cassie is attacked, Stiles begins to suspect that she's hiding something, but Isaac wants to go after the alpha twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warriors

“That’s a lot of coffee,” the checkout clerk said as she grabbed the fourth bag and scanned it.

“You have a favorite brand on sale,” Cassie explained, pulling out her wallet. “And we’re the sort of coffee drinkers that give our _physicians_ migraines.”

The clerk laughed at that. “You know, I haven’t seen you around before,” they said.

“I’ve only been here a few months,” said Cassie.

The clerk dropped the last bag of coffee into the paper sack and punched a button on the cash register. “You can scan your card now,” they said, and Cassie did so.

A minute later, Cassie was trying to find Melissa’s car in the parking garage, using the remote on the keychain. After several steps, she heard a beep and knew exactly where it was coming from. Walking over, however, she slowly realized that it hadn’t been Melissa’s car that had beeped. Looking around, however, there didn’t seem to have been anyone around.

Cassie lifted the key remote again to push the horn button. But, before she could, the car in front of her honked again. She jumped in surprise and almost dropped her bag. When claws sank into her shoulders and tore her backward, she _did_ drop her bag.

Roaring in anger, Cassie lashed out behind her but… there was nothing there? No one was grabbing her. Yet, she was still being dragged through the largely empty parking lot.

Desperate, if Cassie couldn’t fight this thing, she could at least escape it. She closed her eyes and concentrated, shrinking down to her most resilient bug form. Moments later, the roach was dropped onto the asphalt. A shadowed figure walked out toward her, but Cassie swore she could almost see a sort of glimmer to it.

“Clever,” it snarled. “But you can’t protect yourself and others at the same time. _Someone_ will have to go.”

And then it disappeared.

\-- --

“DEATON!” Cassie shouted angrily, slamming open the door of the veterinary clinic. “DEATON, GET YOUR SHINY METAL--!”

“ _Cassie_!” Scott chastised, running out to meet her.

She stepped back, surprised. “Scott,” she said. “I didn’t see your bike.”

“It’s parked in back,” he said, “where it’s less likely to be stolen. Why are you yelling?”

“Because I’m pissed off,” she told him. “Where’s your boss?”

Scott glowered. “He’s in surgery. Why would you--?”

“Actually, I just finished,” Deaton said walking out. “Thank you, by the way, for alarming my client.”

“ _I’m_ alarmed,” Cassie snarled. “I was just attacked in a parking garage!”

Deaton crossed his arms, staring at her in confusion. “What do you think I know about that?” he demanded.

“It glimmered!” she cried. “It glimmered the way only _your_ kind glimmers!”

Deaton’s eyes briefly widened, but then he glared at her again. “That’s not possible, Ms. Sosanya,” he reminded her. “You know that we’re pacifists. A moratorium is not a _hit_.”

“Then, why did it glimmer?!” she demanded.

Deaton shrugged. “We are far from the only people in the universe with that attribute or ability,” he said. “Think about it, Cassie. If we wanted to kill you, why wouldn’t we have done that twenty years ago when the anger was fresh?”

Cassie hesitated. Then, slowly, her anger began to dissolve and her shoulders slumped as exhaustion took over. “I… I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“It’s perfectly understandable,” Deaton said, catching her by surprise. “I’m guessing the last time you ever suffered a physical attack was back home? You were triggered, and you’ve learned to respond to intense fear with an offensive strategy. Your actions might have been regrettable, but they were not out of character. You may have won the war, but some might say that the war also won you.”

Cassie’s lips tightened into a thin line, and she breathed deeply. “I am not conquered,” she hissed.

Deaton smiled politely. “Of course not,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

“Wait,” said Scott, turning to Cassie. “You were in a war?”

“I can’t talk about it, Scott,” she said wearily. “I--"

“No, listen!” Scott insisted. “Stiles snoops on all of his dad’s work.”

Deaton scowled. “I’m pretty certain that’s illegal,” he warned, but Scott ignored him.

“According to Stiles, Braeden told Mr. Stilinski that the new killer was _definitely_ someone who thinks they’re, like, an evil wizard or something,” Scott explained. “That’s not the important part. The important part is that Braeden said there would be _fifteen_ total murders, three murders each of victims in five different categories. There have been three killings of virgins, and she thinks the next three will be--"

“Warriors,” Deaton gasped, suddenly pushing past Scott to run out the back door.

“Wait, where are you--?” Scott demanded, starting to run after them. He paused, though, to turn to Cassie just as she reached the counter. “Don’t bother,” he said. “It’s mountain ash. You’ll have to go around.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, but decided not to waste time arguing with him. She ran toward the front door. Scott followed his boss out the back.

It was too late, though. Kyle Barlow had disappeared, leaving behind his car, and his dog, Bullet.


	2. Run, Baby, Run

“Did she really tell my dad that she defeated the thing in the parking lot with ‘karate’?” Stiles demanded.

“Yeah,” said Scott. “Her lies might pass better if she didn’t add question marks to the end.” He smirked a little. “It’s nice to know Mom’s dating someone who can only ever be earnest with her.”

“Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa!” Stiles said, grabbing Scott and bringing them to a stop in the middle of the school hallway. “They’re together? Since when?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. They still haven’t told me, and I haven’t figured out a way to tell them that it’s okay to tell me,” he said.

“Maybe tell them you’re with Isaac?” Stiles suggested. “Wait, you didn’t like…” He grimaced. “You didn’t hear them, did you? Or…” His grimace deepened. “Or _smell_ them?”

“No, actually," Scott said, laughing in dismay. "That’s how I figured it out; no one launders their bedsheets three times in a week. And I’m not _with_ Isaac.”

“Well, that’s considerate of them,” said Stiles. “What do you mean you’re not with Isaac?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t… think I am?” he said. “We just… it happens sometimes. But… I mean I hardly ever see him.”

Stiles glanced past Scott’s shoulders. “Yeah, only at school…”

Scott squinted at his best friend. “He doesn’t go to--" But he was interrupted when Stiles grabbed him and spun him around toward the towering blond. “Hisaac. Isaac. Hi. Hi, Isaac,” Scott stumbled nervously.

Isaac almost smiled, but an expression of confusion won out. “Hi,” he said.

“You’re in school, now,” Scott said, like that wasn’t completely obvious. Then again, Isaac had shown up while suspended before.

“We all are!” Erica said, suddenly popping up next to them. Boyd made his way toward them at a more leisurely pace. Erica jabbed Isaac in the arm with her elbow. “I don’t know about you, but I, for one, am _super_ excited to repeat a year and pretend my werewolf hearing can’t catch everyone calling me a dumbass behind my back.”

“No one’s going to call you a dumbass,” Boyd assured her as he joined them.

“You really think that?” Isaac asked disbelievingly.

“We’re scary now,” Boyd pointed out. “And she’s scarier.”

Erica gave him the biggest, most genuine smile that Scott had ever seen on anyone besides Allison. “Awe, that’s so sweet,” she cooed. Boyd, however, remained mostly stoic. Mostly, except the tiny hint of a fond look.

“I’ll tell off anyone who makes fun of you,” Scott assured her, partly to show that he still considered them friends, partly because he would, and partly to make a point of the fact that there were other options besides punching.

“You’re all repeating a year?” Stiles asked, completely missing the point.

“They are,” explained Boyd.

“Traitor,” Erica teased with a completely faked glare.

Of course, being held back, the next time Scott saw Isaac wasn’t until the locker room, when he showed up late. Scott bit his lip and hoped hard there wasn’t a reason for that.

“Mr. Lahey!” Coach Finstock exclaimed. “Happy to have you back! Not happy that you’re late.”

“Sorry coach,” Isaac replied, ducking past to drop his bag on the bench just past Danny.

“Your friend,” said Finstock. “What was it? Bill? Was missing recently?”

Isaac turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. “Boyd?” he asked.

“Yeah, is he joining the team?” said Finstock. “Because he was good. I liked him. We can make room. Greenberg’s just taking up space.”

“Uh, no,” Isaac muttered awkwardly. “He wants more time with his family.”

“What is he, a politician?” Finstock demanded. He shook his head and turned his attention to the rest of the locker room. “I’ll remind you all that cross-country is not optional for lacrosse players! I don’t need you turning into a bunch of fatasses in the off-season!”

It was at this moment that Danny and Isaac happened to change out of their shirts in front of him, revealing well-toned muscles. Danny gave the coach a look of incredulity. Finstock cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right, so… work on that,” he said before beating a hasty retreat.

Out on the practice track, Scott heard Isaac’s heart suddenly race. He turned back to see Isaac had bent to retie his laces but now was looking over his shoulder at the new twins. Glaring, really. Snarling, actually.

The twins just grinned down at Isaac. Scott had sensed that they were werewolves. That they were powerful. But he hadn’t thought anything of it until now. But _something_ was obviously wrong.

Coach Finstock’s whistle screamed, and the team took off running. Isaac remained, briefly frozen, watching the twins as they took off at top speed. “Pace yourselves!” Finstock shouted. “Come on!”

Isaac started to take off, but Scott grabbed him. “Isaac!”

Isaac turned to him with a feral grimace and snarled, “It’s them!” He threw Scott off and ran after them.

“Isaac! Wait!” Scott called after him, confused and desperate. Unable to stop him, he raced after them. The fact that this now made four teenage boys racing at werewolf speeds instead of three fell aside over his need to restrain Isaac before something bad happened.

Well ahead of the team, the twins laughed as they ran easily ahead of Isaac, whose feet slammed into the dirt as he pounded after them as hard as he could, racing all out at maximum speed. The twins glanced back at him, snickered at each other, and suddenly boosted speed, losing him around a corner.

When Isaac rounded the corner, they were nowhere to be seen. He stood there, looking around helplessly, unreleased rage making his bones ache.

Suddenly, he was tackled from behind! He tumbled down the shallow incline. Almost as soon as he came to a stop, the twins were on him, each grabbing an arm and pinning it behind his back before hauling him to his knees. Enraged, Isaac growled and snarled and huffed, but he was unable to fight their combined strength.

“Ethan,” said the one, “I always forget, how many bones are in a human body?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan admitted. “Let’s count!” Snarling gleefully, he pulled his arm back.

Which was exactly when Scott arrived to punch him in the face hard enough to knock him back on his ass. Scott glanced down at the floored twin, then turned to the other. “That’s one,” he counted.

The twins snarled. Isaac jumped to his feet and scrambled to Scott’s side. Ethan reset his jaw. His brother extended his claws. Isaac wolfed out. Ethan wolfed out. Scott, left with no other recourse, wolfed out.

And then someone screamed.

Forgetting the twins, Scott grabbed Isaac and charged off toward the sound. He found Stiles and the team gathered around a tree. A tree to which a choked, slashed, and bashed Kyle Barlow was tied by the neck with the leash of his dog.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Stiles asked Scott.

Scott stared. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah it is.”


	3. Tin Soldiers

“It literally said it would kill someone because I didn’t let it kill me,” Cassie said, sitting on Melissa’s couch with her head enfolded in her hands.

Melissa rubbed small circles between Cassie’s shoulder blades. “You can’t blame yourself for that,” she said.

“Why not?” Cassie demanded through a barely-withheld sob as she turned to her with disbelief. “Tell me how that’s not _directly_  my fault.”

“Well, for one, it killed Kyle almost right after releasing you,” Melissa countered. “That’s too fast for premeditation, which must be involved if this Darach is going to stick to its ‘warriors’ theme.”

“You’re saying Kyle would have died anyway?” Cassie said incredulously.

“I’m saying that at least fourteen people may die with or without you,” said Melissa. She put a hand on Cassie’s and lowered it to her lap, where she clutched it earnestly. “But if you live… you can fight it.”

Cassie’s eyes widened and her shoulders slowly slumped. She felt like the wind had been taken out of her. “Are you telling me to get back in?” she demanded. “After everything that’s happened?”

“Not ‘in’,” Melissa said. “Never that. Don’t be someone else’s soldier. Don’t be sacrificed for someone else’s good just to avoid be sacrificed for the Darach’s.” Melissa chewed her lip briefly, then seemed to come to a decision. “I’m asking you to be you. Not a soldier. A hero.”

The first thing that came to Cassie’s mind was not impassioned hope, but distrust. She couldn’t help but wonder how much of Melissa’s speech was motivated by belief in Cassie’s abilities and how much she was motivated by wanting to save her son.

The second thing that came to Cassie’s mind was the realization that, at some point, she had become motivated by the very same things.

\-- --

“You see the way the twins looked at each other?” Isaac asked as he followed Scott and Stiles back down toward the school.

“Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?” Stiles mocked him.

“Nah,” Isaac decided. He glanced back toward the scene of the crime and toward the twins. “Nah, they knew.”

Stiles gaped at him from the other side of Scott. “The kid was strangled with a garrote, alright? Am I the only one recognizing the lack of werewolfitude in these murders?”

“You think it’s a coincidence that they turn up and then people start dying?” Isaac demanded.

“Well, no,” Stiles admitted. “But I still don’t think it’s them.”

They reached the bottom of the hill and, without even really thinking about it, both turned to Scott who seemed to have absolutely no idea why they were looking at him just then. “Scott?” Isaac goaded.

Stiles’s mouth fell open. He did not. He did not just. There was no way that even Isaac Lahey was stupid enough to think that sleeping with Scott a couple times gave him some kind of leverage over years of--

“I… I don’t know yet,” Scott said.

_What._ “You don’t know yet?” Stiles repeated.

Scott turned to look at him. Stiles squinted back. “Well, he-he’s got a point,” Scott mumbled.

Stiles’s mouth fell further open.

“Look, I trust Braeden,” said Scott. “I think. Maybe. But an evil druid making human sacrifices?”

“She didn’t say he was an _actual_ evil druid, Scott!” Stiles said. “She said he _thinks_ he is. It’s happened before! It’s documented! Meanwhile, your eyes turn into yellow glowsticks, hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were to stab you right now it would just magically heal! But you think actual documented delusional murderers are unbelievable?”

Scott turned helplessly to Isaac. “That’s a good point, too,” he said.

Isaac shook his head. “I don’t care, alright?” he drawled. “They killed that kid. They tried to kill me and Braeden. They’re part of a pack that kidnaps people and forces them to murder. And I’m going to kill them.” He stalked off.

Scott watched him go, helplessness boiling in his stomach.

“Really?” Stiles demanded, gesturing after Isaac’s retreating back. “ _Him_?”

Scott rolled his eyes and resumed the walk toward the school building. “Not now, Stiles,” he said.

“So many people, Scott,” he said. “You’ve suddenly blossomed, and that’s amazing, I’m really proud of you, but like half the bees pollinating you are… are…” He gestured angrily to Isaac.

“He’s not that bad,” Scott said.

“HE WANTED TO KILL LYDIA, AND NOW HE CAN’T WAIT TO KILL MORE PEOPLE!” Stiles shouted, and he could not care less who heard him.

Scott winced. “He’s really sorry about that, though,” he mumbled pathetically.

“Yeah?” said Stiles. “Did he tell anyone who’s not you that? Did he say that to Lydia?”

Scott paused. Suddenly, he felt like his stomach was going to drop out. “Oh,” was all he said.

“Yeah. ‘Oh,’” Stiles snarled. “Oh, he is a bad dude, and he will take you down with him.” He stormed off toward the school, leaving Scott standing there at the bottom of the hill.

\-- --

The bell rang, releasing Allison’s classmates of their obligation to laugh at her for sleeping through French class. Ms. Morrell watched them leave, then took a seat at the desk in front of Allison. “You’re starting to concern me, Allison,” she said calmly as Allison nervously began to gather up her things. “Maybe we should chat in the guidance office sometime.”

Feeling a bit hostile not only from being laughed at but from being cornered like she was some helpless creature, Allison countered, “Or maybe you should tell me what you were doing at the bank last night?”

Morrell only smiled at her. “How do you know I was at the bank?” she asked.

“It’s my job to know things,” said Allison.

“As a vigilante?”

“As a protector.”

Morrell looked her over carefully, then smiled again. “So you mean Stiles told you?”

Allison tried not to blush. She really did.

“Lunch time detention,” Morrell decided, standing up again. “For sleeping on the job.”

\-- --

“They’re here for a reason,” Scott tried to reason with Isaac in the hallway. “Give me a chance to figure it out before you do anything.”

Isaac slammed his locker door shut.

“Okay?” Scott tried again.

But Isaac remained silent and stalked off toward where Boyd and Erica were chatting at the end of the hall. They paused as he approached, glanced at him, then glanced past him to Scott. “What was that about?” Erica asked, eying Scott suspiciously.

“The alpha twins,” Isaac informed them. “They’re here.”

“ _What_?” Erica demanded, looking around.

“Yeah,” Boyd agreed. “I’ve seen them, too.”

“They’ve already killed someone,” Isaac told them.

“Mr. McCall,” Mr. Harris snapped right behind him, making Scott jump. “Do you plan on actually attending my class or are you going to listen in through the door?”

“Uh…” said Scott.

Harris took a step back and motioned toward the interior of the classroom. “Come on,” he snipped. “You’re blocking the doorway.”

Scott glanced uncertainly back up the hallway, but Erica and Isaac were already gone, Boyd heading to join him in Harris’s class. He’d have to convince him during class.

Later, as Harris starting going on about inertia and momentum, Scott leaned forward to speak to Boyd. “Boyd, Isaac doesn’t actually know that they killed that guy,” he whispered.

Boyd scowled and glanced over his shoulder. He appeared to debate for a moment, but then he leaned back in his chair. “Do you know that they didn’t?” he asked.

Scott sighed. “No. I don’t,” he admitted. “But shouldn’t we find out first? It’s not our job to kill every person who _might_ be a bad guy.”

Boyd turned to glare at him. “I know that,” he snipped. “You don’t think I know that?”

“Boys,” Mr. Harris snapped. “Something you would like to tell the class?”

“Yeah,” Boyd said, snapping his chair forward. “McCall’s attempting to distract me. Can I get another seat?”

Harris nodded and gestured to an empty seat at the front corner of class, by the door. “Make it quick,” he said, and Boyd gathered up his things and moved seats while Scott buried his head in his arms and groaned. “Pay attention, McCall, or you’re getting lunch detention,” Harris warned.

A few moments later, they were interrupted by the sound of fighting in the hall. Well… Boyd and Scott were. No one else in class had werewolf hearing. Nor were others attuned to the heartbeats of Erica and Isaac. The two exchanged glances across the expanse of the classroom, knowing that one of them was going to have to go check on it, and there was no way that Boyd was going to let it be Scott.

In a split second, Boyd was out of his chair and out the door. “Mr. Boyd!” Harris snapped after him, but it was too late, so he turned on Scott, who was already up out of his seat to follow him. “Sit, Mr. McCall!”

“But!” Scott stumbled. “But I have to pee!”

“Yes, and I’m sure Mr. Boyd does to,” said Mr. Harris with a vicious sneer. “So you can go when he comes back.”

Scott squirmed restlessly as he listened to the fight in the hall. “But… But I really have to go!” he protested. “Like… medical emergency have to go?”

Mr. Harris was almost amused (but mostly annoyed) by this claim. “Mr. McCall, if your bladder suddenly exploded and urine began to pour from every orifice, I would still respond ‘one at a time.’”

Scott stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s really gross, Mr. Harris,” said Stacy.

“If we can return to the subject at hand?” Mr. Harris sneered. “You seem to have forgotten, Mr. McCall, that you are in a physics classroom. Where physics is taught. Traditionally, students sit for these lessons.”

Sighing, Scott returned to his seat, trying to pretend he couldn’t hear the fight in the hall and that his stomach wasn’t wrenching. He could hear Boyd saying something, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was.

Suddenly, there was the sound of someone being thrown into a locker, nearby enough to gain even Harris’s attention. Frustrated by the constant interruptions, Harris slammed his chalk down on the desk and left his classroom. Scott was first out the door after him.

In the hall, Isaac and Boyd stood looking very confused with a thoroughly battered Ethan lying at their feet. Erica, who had been grappling with his brother, Aiden, released the boy and stepped away quickly.

“What is this?” Harris demanded. “What’s going on?”

“They just came at me,” Aiden claimed as Danny rushed to his side and tried to help him up.

“I wanted to help…” Ethan started, pouting.

Harris jabbed a finger at Isaac. “Detention,” he said. Then, he pointed a finger at Boyd. “Detention,” he repeated.

“What?” Boyd demanded. “But I didn’t--!”

“Please, Mr. Harris,” Erica begged, stepping forward. “Boyd was trying to stop--" She glanced at Ethan and Aiden and knew there was no way that Harris would believe that they had acted on their own. “ _us_ ,” she decided.

Harris rolled his eyes. “Please, Ms. Reyes, there’s no need to lie for your boyfriend. Everyone here knows about your condition.”

Erica’s eyes flew wide. “My…?” With a sudden snarl, she threw a fist at him.

Luckily, for Harris, it was blocked by someone more experienced. The man who stood there was of average height but muscular. He was tan with golden blond hair, and he was equipped with a smile strategically designed to melt hearts. Honestly, he looked like he belonged on the set of a daytime soap opera. He smelled… _mostly_ human, and he had an Argent logo on the sleeve of his jacket.

Harris was still staring at the first in his face. “ _Detention_!” he cried. Boyd pulled Erica back away before she could make matters worse. That was when Harris finally noticed who had interfered. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

“Tyler,” said the man. “I need you to come with me, Adrian Harris. We have reason to believe you might be under threat because of your…” His eyes scanned over Harris as though to make some sort of point that Scott did not understand. “... military background,” he decided.

“My…?” Harris backed up a step. “Why should I believe you?”

Tyler just smiled, a dictionary definition of charming. “Two. One. Five,” was all he said.

Harris looked around at his baffled students. “All of you back in class,” he ordered. “You three, principal’s office. You two to the nurse’s station.” He turned back to Tyler. “I’ll have to go excuse myself so they can find a substitute, first,” he told him.

Tyler shrugged. “Take your time.” As Harris passed by him, he caught Scott staring at him. Tyler winked, then went to follow Harris.


	4. Ignition

“The two of you,” Ms. Morrell said, pointing Erica and Allison, “will wash all the boards in this hall.” She then pointed to Jayde and Apollo. “You will reorganize the art room.” She pointed to Sidney and Gino. “You will reshelve the library.” Finally, she pointed to Boyd and Isaac. “And you will restock the Janitor’s closet.”

Boyd shot a look over his shoulder at Isaac, but he accepted his fate.

On their way to the Janitor’s closet, Boyd suddenly stopped at Kyle’s locker, which had become a makeshift memorial. Without saying anything, he pinned an ROTC patch to Kyle’s locker. Isaac felt his stomach sink. “So he _was_ a warrior,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, thanks for, when you told me about the twins, leaving out the fact that people who know shit already have a non-werewolf explanation,” Boyd grumbled.

“But they arrived at the _same_ time these murders started,” Isaac whined.

“So did Ms. Blake," Boyd pointed out. "It's also when the old principal returned. You think I don’t want to fuck the twins up?” Boyd snarled. “If they’re killing people, they deserve… They deserve _everything_! But I’m not going to strike at them when a totally different murderer could be out there! Think about that, Isaac. Think about how your obsession might actually _help_ someone get away with murder.”

Isaac swallowed and backed up against the lockers on the opposite side of the hall. Boyd looked at him funny, but then shook his head and continued on toward the Janitor’s closet.

\-- --

“Hey,” Erica said, suddenly grabbing Allison’s bag, which was still hanging off her back. “What’s this?”

“Stop that!” Allison demanded, swatting at her and taking several steps aside.

But Erica remained insistent, abandoning her cleaning supplies on the nearest desk. “No, really, what’s the logo on that pin?” she demanded.

“What?” Allison stared at her for a moment. Then, giving up, she backed up to the doorway before finally swinging her bag around in front of her. She looked down at the pins and patches decorating the surface. “Which one?”

Erica stepped forward, pointing. “That one,” she said. “The cross with all the lines.”

Allison looked at her skeptically. “It’s the logo for our company,” she said. “And it’s a dagger.”

Erica snorted. “You have a company?" she laughed. "What? Werewolf Hunters, Incorporated?”

Allison rolled her eyes and pulled her bag back into place. “Argent Arms International,” she said, picking up the spray bottle again.

“ _Arms_?” Erica demanded.

“It means--"

“ _I know what it means!_ ” Erica snapped, making Allison jump. “I wanna know what the hell one of your guys is doing getting Mr. Harris in the middle of the day!”

Allison stopped and turned to her. “What?”

\-- --

“So…” Isaac said, moving a box of toilet paper next to another box of toilet paper. “You were friends with Kyle?”

“We were in ROTC together,” Boyd answered absently, trying to get pens to stack despite being crammed into boxes that were obviously designed for maximum spillage.

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “So… is that a yes?”

“I only have one friend,” Boyd grumbled. He backed carefully away from the pens to see if they would stay. Satisfied, he decided to start working on the stacks of printer paper.

Isaac snorted. “I’m going to take a wild guess that’s not me,” he teased.

“You’re not a friend; you’re a mess,” Boyd grunted, and Isaac was forced to shrug in agreement. Boyd glanced at him. “Why is your heartbeat accelerating again?”

Isaac stiffened briefly, then went back to stacking toilet paper. “I don’t like small spaces,” he admitted.

“Huh,” said Boyd. He dropped three packages of paper onto the shelf without really thinking, and the row of pen boxes on the next shelf immediately toppled. He sighed wearily. “I guess the bite doesn’t fix everything,” he said.

“Kind of seemed like it was going to at first,” Isaac admitted. “Well, not really the bite so much as the lizard monster.”

Boyd gave him a confused look, but, before he could ask, the door to the janitor’s closet slammed shut and the lights went out. Isaac jumped, scattering the toilet paper rolls. “What just happened?” he demanded, heart racing double time.

“The door’s old,” Boyd said, rolling his eyes. "Probably, the bulb is loose, too." He stepped forward to open it again, but stopped when he heard a metallic screech on the other side. He and Isaac exchanged worried glances then, as one, ran and slammed their shoulders into the door.

It didn’t budge. Something had been moved in front of it, blocking them inside.

\-- --

“Is that Allison’s ringtone?” Stiles asked, sitting up and leaning forward to try to get a look at Scott’s phone. “I thought you two were on a calling and texting hiatus.”

Scott frowned at his phone as he brought up the message. “Well, she passed me a note in English the other day saying that she wanted to talk,” he said. He turned the phone toward Stiles. “She says to come meet her and Erica in the Geometry room.”

Stiles was already on his feet. “Well, let’s go!” But Scott grabbed his arm, doing that weird “looking around at nothing” thing he does sometimes when he’s using his other heightened senses.

“Stiles, go get Allison and Erica,” Scott ordered. “Boyd and Isaac are in the basement, and they’re in trouble.”

\-- --

“Nonononono,” Isaac mumbled, pacing. “No. No. No.”

“Isaac!” Boyd exclaimed, dismayed. “It’s okay. Someone will--"

Suddenly, Isaac threw his fists against the door, desperately trying to punch his way through.

“Isaac, stop!” Boyd insisted, but Isaac wasn’t listening. He kept muttering “no,” as he desperately tried to fight the door down. When Boyd reached out to stop him before he hurt himself, Isaac started screaming. He started clawing at the wood.

“Isaac!” Boyd protested, and suddenly Isaac turned on him, wolfed out and just as feral as Peter and Cora had been. He grabbed Boyd, but Boyd kicked him back into the door, transforming himself. “Isaac, get a hold of yourself!” But Isaac roared at him and launched again.

Suddenly, there was a crash outside, the door was thrown open, and Scott pulled Isaac roughly off of Boyd, throwing him to the ground. “ISAAC!” Scott screamed, trying to snap him out of it.

And Isaac, surprisingly, snapped out of it.

Erica raced inside to Boyd’s side. “Boyd!” she exclaimed. “Boyd, are you okay?”

Boyd glanced down at the bloody claw marks on his arms, but they were already healing. “Yeah, no big deal,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Isaac whimpered, crawling up against the wall outside.

“It’s okay,” said Boyd. “I can take it.” He looked Isaac over, then forced a small smile, trying to be reassuring. "What's a few scratches between friends?"

Looking at him in disbelief, Isaac's heart finally started to calm again. Boyd reached out and helped him to his feet.

“I guess we know now that they don’t have to kidnap werewolves to pit them against each other,” said Stiles.

“They want to get us out of control,” said Scott, looking extremely unamused.

“So what do we do?” asked Erica.

He glanced back at her and Boyd. His jaw was set, and his gaze was surprisingly cold. “We’ll show them what it’s like to lose control.”

\-- --

“And when did you learn how to hotwire motorcycles?” Boyd asked Allison as he and Isaac hovered nearby on lookout duty.

“Ssh!” Erica hissed. “Don’t distract me! I’m trying to do what she does so we can get this done in half the time.”

“How long is this going to take?” asked Isaac.

“Boys!” Erica warned. But at that moment, the motorcycle in Allison’s hands roared to life.

\-- --

As Scott walked into English, his phone buzzed to life. He pulled it out to find a picture message from Allison, showing Isaac posing on a motorcycle. It was a cruel, cruel picture, but it also relayed a message.

Scott hurried between his classmates to jump into the seat next to Aiden, forcing Ethan to sit on the other side of him, giving him a peculiar glance. He just smiled sunnily back at them.

“Okay, everyone,” said Ms. Blake. “I know this is the last class of the day. To be honest, I want to get out of here, too.”

While Ethan and Aiden watched, Scott pulled a large gear out of his backpack and spun it around his finger while Ethan’s eyes widened. He reached over and placed it on Ethan’s desk. Then, he pulled out another, identical gear, and turned to Aiden. “What do you think?” he asked reaching over to put it on Aiden’s desk. “Does that look important?”

As they stared at him, he glanced up to the front of the class to make sure Ms. Blake was still busy with the blackboard. Then, Scott pulled out two more devices. These were also identical to each other and featured crudely severed cords. He laughed to himself. “I have no idea what these things do,” he admitted.

Outside, there was the sound of an engine, and Aiden was up on his feet and out of the classroom immediately while his brother shouted at him to wait. Then, there was the sound of a second engine, and Ethan glanced at Scott who merely shrugged sheepishly. He, too, was promptly out of the classroom. Ms. Blake turned, stunned, and looked to Scott for an answer, but he just shrugged innocently.

As Aiden raced down the hall, his motorcycle raced up to meet him. It skidded to a stop, and the second bike skidded right next to it just as Ethan joined them. Aiden grabbed the handlebars and screamed at the rider, “GET OFF MY BIKE!”

Boyd and Isaac removed their helmets, and Boyd grinned back at Aiden. “Okay,” he said. They both shoved the helmets into the twins’ hands, then leapt straight over their shoulders, walking away into the hall.

The twins didn’t have long to wonder at the point of it all before their classmates started pouring into the hall to see what all the commotion was about. “You have got to be kidding me!” Ms. Blake gasped as she came upon the scene. The twins stared at her helplessly. “You realize this is going to result in a suspension?” she demanded angrily.

Allison, Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica stood together at the end of the hall, openly giggling at the scene before them.


	5. Home is Where the Crater Is

“You’re out of school early.”

“Yeah,” said Stiles, somewhat nervously. “Free period actually.” He swallowed and tried to find the words to continue. “I was just headed home to see my dad. He’s, uh… You know, I guess you’ve probably heard people are kind of getting murdered again. It’s his job to figure it out.”

A firm nod. “I gathered as much from the ‘Sheriff’ title.”

“Yeah. Um, but you know, it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn’t have all the information.” Stiles fidgeted nervously. “And we all pretty much know that he’s missing half the story here, right?”

Another patient nod.

“So then I started thinking, and I remembered someone who does have a lot of information. Someone who seems to know more than anyone else around here.”

Cassie smiled patiently. “I think I have allowed you a false impression of me,” she said patiently. “I don’t have a clue what’s going on, Stiles. I wish I could help you, but I’m here running defense, just like everyone else.”

Stiles shook his head, protesting, “But you know so much about--"

“Stiles, I transform via military technology.”

Stiles froze in place, staring.

“I didn’t even know werewolves and magic were real things until Melissa called me,” she admitted. “There is a lot that I’m keeping from you, because I’m obligated to by law. I’ve already broken that law just to reveal what I have. But I can tell you that there’s not one ounce of the supernatural in what I know or the things I have experience in. If anything here ever looks one cent like the shit I know, I can swear to you that higher authorities will immediately swoop in and take it from your dad. You won’t have to worry about that.”

“But you thought you knew what it was,” Stiles argued. “You thought it was Deaton.”

Cassie shook her head. “I was having an irrational reaction to a threat on my life, Stiles,” she said. “If Scott told you the whole story, then you must know that I immediately realized I was wrong. I have apologized to Dr. Deaton.”

“But--!”

“Go home, Stiles,” Cassie said. She picked her mug up off the coffee table and moved toward the kitchen. “Let your dad do the job he signed up for.”

Stiles watched her for a moment. Then, “Are you crying?” he said.

Cassie paused, then wiped her face. She didn’t turn back to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just didn’t expect… I didn't think that of the two of you, you would be the one who reminds me of Marco.” She continued into the kitchen, disappearing from view.

Stiles was almost to his Jeep when he realized that not once before had anyone mentioned Cassie knowing Scott’s dad. In fact, they had gone out of their way to imply otherwise. The same way the governor had constantly claimed that she wasn’t “legally” related to Scott. And, in fact, this brought to mind that his dad had mentioned Eva giving Cassie a ride from the hospital after Braeden and Isaac had landed themselves there only to fight their way out again.

It seemed like Stiles now had a whole new issue to worry about, on top of his slowly building pile of worrisome issues.

\-- --

That night, _20/20_ was interrupted by knocking at the door. “I’ll get it,” Melissa said, patting Cassie’s knee as she got up from the couch and squeezed past her. She was surprised to find Isaac Lahey at her door, soaking wet. He looked like a… a drowned rat. “An umbrella would’ve been a good idea,” she said, looking over him.

“I don’t have one,” Isaac mumbled awkwardly.

Melissa scowled disapprovingly. “At least let me take that cardigan before you soak my floors,” she said.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, handing it over to her. She beckoned him inside, then stepped out on the porch to lay it across a bench to dry. “You!” he suddenly cried, and Melissa ducked back inside to see what the fuss was.

Cassie glanced up past the television. “Oh, hey!” she said. “You look better.”

Melissa glanced between them. “You know each other?” she asked, closing the door behind her.

“She’s the angel who saved my life,” Isaac gasped in awe.

Cassie bowled over laughing while Melissa continued to look between them, confused. Finally, as Scott came down the stairs to see what the fuss was, Cassie collected herself. “I was in bird morph,” she explained. “And he had head trauma.”

“You can be a bird?” asked Scott.

Cassie nodded. “I can be a lot of things,” she admitted. “I’m not really a werewolf, Scott. It just seemed easier, at the time, to go with that than to try to explain ‘irreversible, non-transferable, highly-classified, should-not-be-telling-you-this, military-origin, artificial metamorphosis technology’. I supposed I should have come clean after I ended up staying here, and I’m sorry I waited until now.”

Scott shrugged. “I guess I get it,” he said. “I mean I don’t understand any of that at all, but… thanks for telling me?”

Cassie smiled, but Isaac just shook his head, water droplets falling onto soaked shoulders. “Nah, I’m still pretty sure she’s an angel,” he decided.

Cassie laughed in delight. “I like this kid!” she said. “Can we keep him?”

Isaac ducked his head and blushed. “Actually…”

“What?” asked Scott, finally descending the last couple steps. His concern was clear in his expression.

“Um.” Isaac glanced nervously toward the adults in the room. “I actually came by to, uh, ask if I could crash? Just for a little while!" he added quickly. "Until I can get ahold of my relatives.”

Cassie frowned. “How long have you been trying to get ahold of your relatives?” she asked.

“Since Dad died,” he admitted. “Earlier this year.”

Cassie’s frown deepened into a scowl, and Melissa asked, “Who have you been staying with?”

“Derek Hale,” Isaac admitted. “But, uh, he says I can’t stay there anymore.”

“What about Erica or Boyd?” asked Scott. “I mean, not that I-- I just assumed that you’d rather… um…”

Isaac shrugged, bouncing a bit nervously. “There’s no room at Boyd’s house, and Erica’s parents have banned all her friends,” he said. “They think she joined a gang.”

“She kind of did,” Melissa pointed out.

“If you’re okay with it, Melissa, we were going to free up the guest room anyway,” Cassie pointed out. “I can probably have my stuff out of there by the end of tomorrow.”

“You’re moving out?” Scott asked, looking hurt.

“Not exactly,” Cassie admitted, and a wide grin suddenly burst across Scott’s face as he realized what she meant.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to send him to the streets,” Melissa sighed. “Bathroom’s that way,” she told Isaac. “Towels are in the closet. Scott, get him some dry clothes and a sleeping bag.” As the boys ran off in their different directions, Melissa called after them, “You’re camping in the living room tonight!”

Sighing, Melissa collapsed on the couch next to Cassie. “I’m surprised,” Melissa admitted, as she leaned on Cassie's shoulder. “I would have expected you to be more concerned about your privacy.”

Cassie shrugged. “That’s more the government’s problem than mine,” she said. She glanced back the way Isaac had gone. “Besides, he looks like someone I used to know…”

\-- --

Allison was surprised to hear a car pull up outside her house. She was even more surprised to glance out the window and see that the car was, in fact, a taxi. She was outright stunned to see Mr. Harris stumble out to it.

Slowly, she eased her door open and crept into the hall. She ducked out of view just as her grandmother emerged from the study and headed toward the stairs. “Tyler,” Agrona called down to him as she hurried down. “Who was that?”

“Adrian Harris, former host to Kirsin 215,” Tyler informed her. Thinking she was hearing wrong, Allison crept closer to the bannister. “Potential target for Beacon Hills’s new resident serial killer, given his ‘military’ history. Took it upon myself to warn him. Scare something out of him maybe,” he said with a laugh.

Joining him on the ground floor, Agrona hummed thoughtfully. “How long will that satiate you?” she asked.

Tyler shrugged. “I think I’ve got at least a weekend out of it,” he said, only confusing Allison further. “We’ll have to see what supplies Harris decides he suddenly doesn’t need anymore.” He headed past her to the cellar, but Agrona reached out and grabbed his arm.

“You know our arrangement isn’t one-sided,” she asked. “Did Harris have any intelligence?”

“He’s the least intelligent person I’ve ever met,” Tyler laughed. “But you’ll be happy to know that I've found something that I’m pretty certain should pay off my entire future’s worth of debt to you.”

Agrona scoffed at that. “And what would that be, Tyler?”

“I’ve found the very last Animorph alive,” he said. “Here in Beacon Hills. Living with your granddaughter’s boyfriend.”

\-- --

Isaac jumped to his feet at the sound of someone scrabbling at a window in the back of the house, but Scott just groaned and rolled over on the couch. “That’s Stiles failing at doors again,” he mumbled. “I’ll get it.” Sleepily, he pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the back of the house, where he found Stiles half-emerged through a window there. Helpfully, Scott grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him out the rest of the way.

“Ow!” Stiles protested as his ass hit the floor. “What was that for?” he demanded.

“Doors, Stiles!” Scott insisted.

“Well, I didn’t want to wake anyone,” Stiles claimed. “Or get you in trouble.”

“Good job with that,” Isaac said, joining them.

Stiles gawked at him. “What is _he_ doing here?” he demanded of Scott.

“He, uh, he lives here now,” said Scott.

Stiles blinked at him. “Wow,” he said. “That was fast. And unexpected. If you’d said something, I would have gotten you two a wedding present.”

Scott rolled his eyes and explained, “Derek kicked him out.”

“Wow, rough,” Stiles told Isaac in an  _almost_ apologetic tone.

“What are you doing here?” Scott demanded.

“I came to steal your mother’s high school yearbook,” Stiles said. “She has _one_. I’m sure I’ve seen it before.”

Scott gawked at him. “Why?” he demanded in disbelief.

Stiles stood up and brushed himself off. “Because earlier today, I came by to see if Cassie knows something she’s not saying,” he admitted. “And she claimed that she doesn’t. But just as I was leaving, she said I reminded her of your dad.”

“Ew,” said Scott, making a face.

Stiles snapped his fingers in Scott’s face. “Focus!” he snapped. “Think: what is weird about Cassie saying that?”

Scott thought for a moment, then a hint of betrayal crossed his face. “They haven’t mentioned Cassie knowing him,” he realized. “Like at all.”

“Cassie’s the angel?” asked Isaac, and Scott nodded while Stiles made a confused and offended face at them. Offended, as usual, that there were things he hadn't been immediately told right away. Isaac continued, trying to summarize his understanding, “So Cassie knows your dad and won’t admit it easily. And your dad’s mom is pretending she’s not really your dad’s mom and meanwhile has started interfering in things?”

“This is going places I don’t like,” Scott grumbled.

“Right, so your mom says she knew Cassie from high school,” Stiles continued, ignoring him. “I figure the yearbook is a good bet for info. But I also figured that if people are covering things up, I can’t just ask for it. So I came over here to steal it, hoping you wouldn’t hear me because then you’d have plausible deniability.”

Scott sighed. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go down to the basement.”

Several minutes and four boxes later, Isaac pulled out a tall but thin, leather-covered book. “Uh… is this it?” he asked.

“Does it say ‘Class of Whatever’ on it?” Stiles demanded, grabbing the book. “Because then it’s obviously-- What the hell.”

“Yeah, see?” Isaac said, gesturing to the cover. “That’s why I asked.”

“'Seven Saints High School 1993 to 1994'?” Scott read off the cover. “Why is that weird?”

“It can’t be…” Stiles mumbled, opening the book. But then he stabbed a finger at the introductory page. “It is! Los Siete Santos, California. Your mom is from Los Siete Santos! That’s impossible!”

“How is that impossible?” Scott demanded, still confused.

“Because it’s an urban legend,” said Isaac. “I don’t really remember of what, but I know it’s not a real city. Or I thought it wasn’t.”

“It’s not even a particularly popular one,” said Stiles. “I never heard it until last year. When you first became a werewolf, I read _everything_. Literally everything. Even if it wasn’t related. I started my belief in what’s true over from scratch and looked at every piece of weirdness I could get my hands on to decide for myself how true it was.

“Los Siete Santos didn’t pass the test,” he said. “The legend is mostly ‘there’s a city that doesn’t exist.’ Not much else. It’s one of those self-fulfilling urban legends. Make something up, then make it spooky by saying it’s unfindable. A few people claim there was, like, alien landings and abductions there, but that’s pretty usual for that sort of story. And it _doesn’t_ exist. There has never been a map with Los Siete Santos on it. There’s never been a newspaper article mentioning an event there. Los Siete Santos doesn’t ‘not exist’ because it was removed, it ‘not exists’ because… well… it never has existed!”

Scott considered this for a moment. Then, calmly, he asked, “Stiles, did you do all this research on the internet?”

“Yeah,” said Stiles as though it were obvious. “The internet has everything. Why would I ever leave?”

“Because digital records can be tampered with,” said Scott. “Remember? From our history project? If you want to see what was _really_ on old maps, you have to go to the library and find an actual old map.”

Stiles looked down at the book in his hand. “I guess I do.”

Scott leaned back against the shelf and stared up at the floor above them. “My abuela who isn’t really my abuela is _actually_ my abuela. My mom’s new girlfriend secretly knew my dad. And my mom is from a city that doesn’t exist.”

“Well, at least nothing's ever boring here,” said Isaac.


End file.
